The Brand of Anem Read online

  THE BRAND

  OF ANEM

  THE CHRONICLES OF THE FORGOTTEN COUNTRYMEN

  BOOK I

  ☽✵☾

  KAITLYN DEANN

  Copyright © 2018 by Kaitlyn Deann

  All rights reserved

  First Edition

  Published December 16, 2018

  Cover design by Olivia Pro Designs.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Kaitlyn Deann

  Visit her website at authorkaitlyndeann.com.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For Chris,

  my soon-to-be husband.

  Thank you for encouraging me to do

  hard things even when I don’t feel like it.

  “Surely there is not a righteous man on earth

  who does good and never sins.”

  — Ecclesiastes 7:20 (ESV)

  CHAPTER ONE

  The weather mirrored how Carson had felt that particular day: morose and cantankerous and bleak. The coastal breeze cut through his clothing like a frozen knife, straight through to his shivering bones. Casey, his younger sister by six years, squeezed his bare hand with her gloved one. Her scarf had unwound itself and hung freely around her shoulders. Carson wrapped her scarf back around her throat to protect it from the harsh breeze and tugged her hand-knit hat over her frozen ears. They continued their hand-in-hand walk to the church, where their parents waited for them at the engagement celebration of the year.

  It was hardly ever as cold as it was that day. Every few years the temperature would drop below fifty degrees Fahrenheit, though it was never cold enough for anything to freeze. According to the northerners that occasionally passed through, the cold that the Capital of Deneb experienced was nothing compared to the frozen water that fell from the clouds in the north. Carson believed he would despise snow if he ever saw it, and he was glad he didn’t have to deal with it.

  Carson told himself not to show how he felt, and as he walked to the church with his sister in tow, he practiced an expressionless mien. He practiced hiding his disappointment, resentment, and bitterness. It was less of an effort to Carson since he’d been in the business of hiding his emotions to the outside world since he was twelve, only a year older than Casey was.

  “Big brother?” rasped Casey. She sounded like she was possibly getting sick, and that worried Carson a tad.

  Carson reached over with his free hand and pulled the scarf up over her mouth and nose. Perhaps that would help some, but he wasn’t all that confident. “What is it?” he replied, voice low.

  “You’re very quiet.” There was no question. Just the statement.

  “And you look very cold.”

  She shivered in agreeance.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re nearly to the church. Just a few more minutes.”

  Thankfully, the goddess was looking down on their shivering bodies and had mercy. She stopped the wind for the rest of the walk, and the cold was not so unbearable. Carson had quickly sent a thank-you prayer to her as they trotted up the marble steps of the temple. Once inside, Casey let out an exasperated sigh of relief in an entirely quiet sanctuary during the all-important moment of silence. Horrified, Carson covered her mouth halfway through the sigh, yet several people nearest them still turned to look in disappointment and some even in disgust.

  He nodded his apologies at them and dragged Casey along, still covering her mouth. She shook him off of her, but she didn’t make a sound. They hugged the wall as they made their way further into the sanctuary to where their parents always sat. They had never sat anywhere else in the whole of the temple.

  The moment they were sitting with Derek and Kayla—their parents—Prophet Theodore Alpin stood from his seat among the congregation and climbed the steps to the stage where a twelve-foot-tall statue of Bandia an Anem had been erected. When Prophet Theo spoke, the whole room listened. “We thank Anem for blessing us with opportunities such as this. Today we have all gathered to celebrate the most recent engagement of our wonderful city. Judge Mark James’ daughter, Kristina Margaret James, to the chief officer, Henry William Lach.” A lump rose in Carson’s throat. He was glad no one was looking at him in that moment. Closing his eyes for a second, he reminded himself not to show anything.

  Doesn’t matter how much it hurts you . Don’t give anything away. They can’t know . They can never know.

  Margaret and William walked up the steps to stand next to Prophet Theo. William positioned himself on the Prophet’s left while Margaret took his right side. Carson realized at that moment that William’s grinning face had never been so punchable. “Please help me welcome this soon to be wedded couple!” Carson’s throat squeezed. He reeled himself back in as he clapped along with everyone else in the room.

  And then, the worst thing happened: he locked eyes with Margaret. He had to look away, even though her eyes screamed at him that she was sorry and wished things were different. Carson knew she did. He wished things were different too. None of it was her fault. She didn’t pick this life, yet she was forced to live it. He could never fault her for what she couldn’t control.

  “After the service,” began Prophet Theo when the applause died down, “we will be having a dinner in the recreational hall provided by Judge James and his wife, Ambassador James. Everyone is encouraged to stop by for a plate and to congratulate Margaret and William.”

  The service was not too long, considering it wasn’t Sunday. It was a short sermon on marriage and how the goddess would bless a married couple with children and a long life. Carson tuned most of it out, having heard it multiple times, but he didn’t ignore the Prophet on purpose. He was distracted by his own racing thoughts.

  Finally, Prophet Theo closed them in prayer and sent them on their way to the recreational hall. Carson didn’t want to go, and he attempted to get out of going by telling his parents he didn’t feel all too well.

  His mother Kayla slapped her hand on his forehead and said, “You don’t feel warm.”

  Derek added, “We won’t stay too long. We’ll just say our due to the couple, grab food and leave.”

  And the two of them headed with the crowd towards the hall that was connected to the sanctuary, expecting Carson to follow. Casey was right on their heels, skipping gleefully at the smell of the food. She was practically a bottomless pit and was never completely satisfied.

  Slowly, Carson integrated into the crowd, dragging his feet, allowing people to pass him by. He lost his family quickly that way. To his dismay, he eventually made it into the hall. The overwhelming smell of the food wafting through the air caused the pit in his stomach to toss. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat anything while there. Technically, he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t feel too well.

  After hugging the wall and following it to one of the corners, Carson searched for one of his family members. He was hopeful they’d already said something to Margaret and William so they could grab some food and get the hell out of there already.

  He spotted his sister in line at the buffet table, stacking her plate up high with all the different options available. He would not have been surprised if she was drooling over it.

  “Carson.” His attention snapped to his left. Bobby, an old school friend of his, was also hugging the wall and escaping to the corner. He grinned a bit at Carson, uncomf
ortable. But Bobby’s discomfort was not the same as Carson’s. He had an anxiety disorder that would render him useless in large crowds if he didn’t take his medication properly. Carson wasn’t supposed to know that about Bobby—it was against the rules to know such personal details about anyone, really—but he didn’t ask to know. Bobby volunteered the information one day after he’d broken down in front of Carson at school and made a comment about forgetting to take his medication for a few days. He never mentioned it again, and Carson never asked.

  “Are you going to get food and leave too?” he asked Carson.

  Carson just nodded, looking over at the buffet. Casey was already gone, probably inhaling it as they spoke. His parents were at the buffet now. The line behind them seemed to just get longer.

  Bobby heaved a heavy sigh. “So many people came out for their engagement.” Out of the corner of Carson’s eye, he wrung his hands.

  “Yeah,” Carson agreed in a small voice. “But I guess it makes sense. Margaret is the duchess.”

  He nodded. “It’s crazy. I remember when we were all in school.” He snorted then, like something was funny. Lightly, he hit Carson’s arm. “Hey, remember when Fiona and I would make fun of you two? About you guys being in love and stuff? It was totally against the rules, but...” Carson stared at him for a long moment. Long enough to make him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he whispered. “That wasn’t appropriate. She’s pledged now. Any talk like that is against the rules—”

  “Shut up, Bobby,” said Carson roughly.

  “Again, sorry.”

  Carson felt a little bad for being so hard on him, but he was right: It was against the rules to talk about someone in that manner once they were pledged to someone else. It wasn’t appropriate . Their society was all about ensuring the appropriateness of their lives, no matter the cost.

  Carson recalled very well all the times Fiona and Bobby rode them about liking each other as more than friends. They never had much information to go off of except little insignificant things like, “I saw the way you two were looking at each other from across the field,” and, “Anytime Maggie’s in the room, your attention is split between what you’re doing and what she’s doing.”

  They never caught on to anything more—which was a blessing in and of itself, because there was so much more of which they weren’t aware.

  Carson’s eyes skimmed over the crowd, and somehow, against his better judgment, he found Margaret and wouldn’t look away. She stood next to William, and a line of people were talking to them, shaking their hands, congratulating them on their soon-to-be marriage.

  Bobby elbowed him, frogging his arm. “Ow, you jerk!” he hissed. “What was that for?”

  Bobby whispered, “You were staring at her.”

  Carson didn’t reply, just looked away, over at the buffet table. The line was still very long. He realized he should’ve remained with his family. They were probably done eating, and they didn’t even know where he was so they could leave his personal hell.

  “I’m not going to say anything to anyone,” Bobby continued. Carson groaned internally. “You never told anyone about me and my…” he paused. “You know… So I’ve got your back.” There was only a moment’s lapse before he started again. “I know she’s really pretty, Carson. You just have to exercise more self-control. It’s inappropriate, the thoughts that I assume run through your head—”

  Carson looked directly at him then. “ Shut up , Bobby. You know nothing of my thoughts.” Except he wasn’t necessarily wrong, but Carson could never admit to such sins. Admission would spell out certain punishments, and then everyone would know everything. He couldn’t afford that. And more so, Margaret couldn’t afford that.

  Carson spotted his family eating at one of the tables and said bye to Bobby as he rushed over to them. Mother was chatting with one of the older women sitting next to her, and Dad was speaking to Casey quietly.

  “Carson,” Mother addressed when he walked up to the table, “get some food. You should eat.”

  “No, thanks,” he declined politely. “I would like to leave now.”

  “Oh, come on,” the older lady sitting next to Kayla said. “Don’t live your life in such a hurry, my dear! Sit and eat!”

  “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Clementine,” said Mother, “but I think Carson isn’t feeling too well.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Clementine crooned, looking over Carson for any signs of illness. “Poor boy! Take some food with you and rest.”

  Suddenly, somebody bumped into him hard enough to nearly knock him down. But Carson wouldn’t go down easily. He quickly gathered his footing and turned to whoever knocked into him.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry!” It was William. Carson’s jaw clenched. He patted Carson’s shoulder, letting his hand linger. Where he was touching Carson, the blood boiled there deep under the skin. “Are you okay, kid?”

  “Fine,” Carson mumbled.

  Did he just call me kid? Carson wondered if he’d heard correctly. What is he? Like, two years older than I am?

  His eyebrows furrowed together. “You don’t look fine.”

  “I’m ill,” is all Carson said.

  William removed his hand from Carson’s shoulder. It began cooling in the same moment. “Well, you kind of look upset. I promise I didn’t mean to bump you. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  Carson shook his head. Get a grip . He gave William a tight-lipped grin . “I’m okay,” he assured. “Carry on, sir.”

  He nodded and continued walking to the buffet. Carson didn’t realize he was watching William until an all-too-familiar voice said, “Carson, are you sure you’re okay?”

  Carson made eye contact with Margaret. They shared a silent moment. She blinked, disrupting his gaze into her hazel eyes. She looked down at the toes of her shiny boots that were partially covered by her long blue skirt. They were the same boots that Carson has helped her remove and put back on many times.

  “I’ll be fine,” he replied. “Thank you for your concern, my lady.” He bowed his head as a sign of utmost respect, keeping it bowed for a couple of seconds longer than necessary before looking back up at her.

  She didn’t smile at Carson. She just nodded once, eyes downcast again, and said, “That’s relieving to hear.” She walked away then, no goodbye, also headed towards the buffet. Carson consciously made sure not to watch her walk away, and instead, stared at the polished floor for several moments until he was sure she was well gone.

  Finally, his father stood up and announced to the table that he and his family should be retiring home.

  “I’ll be outside waiting,” Carson said the moment Derek had spoken, and he raced outside into the cold, cruel evening.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When it was time for lights out, Carson had already been in bed for an hour. To his parents, this confirmed that he hadn’t been feeling well indeed. But the truth was that Carson felt much better in his bed than he did at the temple that day. He spent a lot of time in his bed thinking. There were a lot of sleepless nights where all Carson did was think. He recalled what Bobby had said earlier about noticing he was staring at Margaret. That made Carson uncomfortable because he wasn’t sure who else saw him staring. And his friend was right: it was not appropriate for Carson’s eyes to linger on anyone, let alone the duchess.

  When Carson was twelve, he had his Coming of Age Ceremony. He was considered old enough to be held accountable for his sins. He remembered the judge of Deneb’s Capital sitting him down in his office, Derek on his right and Kayla on his left. Judge Mark James had his rule book in front of him. They had spent several hours that day going over each rule and all the consequences if Carson had broken a single one. He then had to sign a paper saying he understood the rules and that he would accept any punishment that he deserved if he dared break one.

  That day was a drag for Carson, he recalled, mostly because he already knew all the rules. Derek was an officer in their city. He had his own special copy of
the rulebook at home to study, and that was what Carson learned to read with when he was a young boy. Not only that, but he had always wanted to be an officer just like his father, so he had studied the rules carefully before his Coming of Age Ceremony.

  Carson wasn’t so sure that’s what he wanted anymore, though. It didn’t matter what he wanted anyway. No one got to pick their career. They were all assigned, and he was one of the last in his class to receive a letter from the courthouse announcing his job title. Bobby Collins even had already received his letter, assigning him to blacksmithing.

  Perhaps they are going in alphabetical order, Carson thought. He wasn’t sure what the true hold up was though. All he knew was that he thought the Job Assignment Test was easy, and Carson didn’t think it was meant to be, which made him think that he was deceived by the wording of the test’s questions itself into thinking it was easy. Perhaps he scored terribly on it. Was it a test that could be scored? It felt more like a personality test than an academic one. He wouldn’t know until he got that letter.

  “Dear?” It was Mother. He remained on his side, keeping his back to her. She touched his shoulder lightly and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Can I get anything for you? It’s nearly lights out, and you haven’t had dinner. I can heat something up for you quickly.” Her soft voice was usually warming to Carson, but right now he just wanted her to leave. She couldn’t understand if she tried, so he didn’t even dare attempt to explain to her his thoughts. He wouldn’t dare anyway. Not to her. Not in a million years.

  “I’m fine, Mother,” he said, turning over to her. “I’m just a little... off, I guess.”

  “Ah,” Kayla said as if she really understood what was going on, though she really could never. “You’re worried you won’t be assigned to the Forces like Dad?”

  Carson sighed. “Yeah.” It had nothing to do with that. Carson may not get a spot in the Forces, but he was honestly not too worried about it. He had other things on his mind. They could assign him any job, and he’d be fine with it.